The joke made her snicker despite the warring emotions in her chest. “You’re still an unrepentant ass, I see.”
“How do you feel? Nan just informed me you’d awoken.”
“I hurt.” She shot him a smile that was more wince than anything else.
“I imagine.”
“Alton…my father,” she said, trying to force the words out. “He’s dead.”
His expression sobered. “I had feared as much. When Dormael brought you in…well, I assumed the worst.”
“Who is this Dormael everyone is talking about?”
Just as the words left her mouth, the noise of bustling feet brought her attention to the doorway. Two strange men entered the room, both wearing interested expressions on their faces. The first man through the door was a shade taller than Alton, which would have put him a head taller than Shawna. He had long wavy hair and a gingered beard on his chin, though his hair was wet, and the color was hard to discern. He favored her with a friendly smile, but his piercing blue eyes hid a frenzy of mental activity.
The second man was of a height with the first and wore his hair short, the way a soldier might. His own beard was a ridiculous thing braided all the way from his chin to his waist, and his eyes were a bright green color. His right had was wrapped in a kerchief, and blood-stained water dropped from the clenched fist.
They wore close-fitting shirts and leather breeches, and had rags tied around their necks. Their clothing was soaked through, and water dripped into the floor at their feet. Shawna raised an eyebrow at the state of their dress, but this was Alton’s house, and it wasn’t her place to call them to task.
What have they been doing, dressed like that?
“Speak his name and the man appears.” Alton smiled. “Shawna, meet Dormael.” He indicated the one with the braid hanging from his chin. “The one with the dour face is D’Jenn.”
“Dormael and D’Jenn.” Shawna narrowed her eyes. “Those are Sevenlander names.”
“They are.” Dormael smiled, placing a fist over his heart and bowing at the waist. “Dormael Harlun, of Soirus-Gamerit.”
“D’Jenn Pike.” The blue-eyed man also bowed. “Pleased.”
He doesn’t look pleased.
“Shawna Llewan.”
“It’s good to finally speak to you,” Dormael said. “We’ve been hoping for your recovery.”
Shawna was struck with a strange vision—a blurry image of Dormael standing amidst a storm of lightning. The smell of horsesweat and blood pervaded the memory. She put a hand to her head and regarded him with a confused expression.
His voice—it’s familiar. I’m sure of it.
Shawna narrowed her eyes. “I remember you. They said you brought me in. You found me.”
Dormael grimaced. “Indeed. On the road, near the southern gate.”
“I see. I suppose I should thank you for my life.” The words sounded empty, and regret wormed into Shawna’s stomach. She felt the gratitude, but the only emotions burning in her chest were grief and smoldering anger.
“No need for thanks.” Dormael gave her an awkward smile. “Anyone might have done the same.”
“Maybe.” Shawna nodded. “Thank you, nonetheless.”
“Now that you’re awake, we must speak of serious matters.” D’Jenn turned to Alton. “Things have changed, Alton.”
Alton grimaced. “For the worse?”
Shawna cleared her throat. “Excuse me? Serious matters?”
D’Jenn raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”
Shawna ground her teeth. “To begin with, I’m wondering who you are. I’m grateful for whatever help you’ve given, but that doesn’t give you the right to involve yourself in my business—especially considering I’m landed nobility. Any serious matters that need to be discussed are the purview of Lord Dersham and I.”
“Is that so?” A smirk raised the side of D’Jenn’s mouth.
Shawna’s anger stirred. “It is so, and I would caution you to remember my station. Your attitude is more than a bit free.”
“You’ll have to forgive me.” D’Jenn bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “I’ve not much experience dealing with touchy nobility.”
The one called Dormael winced and looked away.
“Touchy?” Shawna drew herself up as best she could.
Alton held up placating hands. “I think everyone needs to calm down.”
Shawna ignored him. She struggled to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, using every ounce of control she’d learned during her training to hide the pain. D’Jenn raised his eyebrows in surprise, and both Alton and Dormael moved to help her—the latter running his eyes over her legs with an incredulous look on his face. Shawna was too angry to rebuff him, and she waved the two of them away.
Shawna stood on unsteady feet and looked D’Jenn in the eyes. “You listen to me. I have just been through the worst night—”
“Week,” Dormael put in. Shawna gave him a dangerous look, and he shrugged in response.
“Week,” she repeated, turning her eyes back to D’Jenn, “in my life. My family is dead. Our livelihood destroyed, our holdings burned. I only escaped because I killed my way out, and I’m no mood for your disrespect.”
Dormael stepped forward. “Lady Shawna—”
She silenced the Sevenlander with a glare. “You can call me Lady Baroness, or Baroness Llewan.”
The insufferable man shot her cousin a wry look and backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.
“Shawna, I know this is all very strange,” Alton cut in, “but please sit down. We’ll explain everything.”
“Strange? Oh, this is strange, alright. And you.” She shot Dormael another irritated look. “If you don’t stop running your eyes over my legs, I’ll cut the treacherous things from your head.”
The man didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed as he snapped his eyes back up to her face—he was grinning like a fool. He stopped ogling her, but his smile made her want to slap him across the cheek.
No wonder everyone hates Sevenlanders. They have no care for propriety.
D’Jenn sighed. “Lady Baroness, allow me to apologize. I spoke out of turn. If you will forgive me, we can move on from this misunderstanding. There is much to discuss, and I believe you’ll want to hear what we have to say.”
Shawna took a deep breath and nodded. “Better. First, would the two of you care to explain who you are, and why you’re dressed like a pair of thieves?”
Dormael scoffed. “We’re not thieves.”
“Oh no?” She ran her eyes over his soaked clothing and the rag hanging around his neck—which was obviously some sort of impromptu face-mask. She made a point of hovering her gaze over him in a familiar way just to jab at him. “You certainly look like a pair of thieves.”
“We’re not thieves.” D’Jenn ground his teeth. “Courtesy goes both ways, Lady Baroness.”
Shawna raised an eyebrow. “Who are you, if not thieves?”
“Alton?” Dormael asked.
“Just show her.” Alton rubbed his temples. “I want no part of this.”
Shawna glanced between the three of them. “Show me what?”
Dormael sighed and cupped his upturned palm toward the fireplace. With a quiet whoof, a mote of fire leaped from the wood and shot across the room, coming to rest in Dormael’s palm. He held the tiny burning globe above his hand until D’Jenn reached over and plucked it from his grip. D’Jenn smiled and held it out to Shawna, who backed away in horror. With a smirk on his face, D’Jenn shook his palm as if he was clearing a bug from his skin. The fire fluttered and disappeared.
Shawna sat down on the bed.
“Shawna,” Alton said, “Dormael and D’Jenn are—”
“Sorcerers,” she finished. “They’re sorcerers.”
It was odd even saying it.
D’Jenn sighed. “Insults flow from your mouth, Lady Baroness. Odd, for one so concerned with discourtesy.”
Shawna gave him a co
nfused look. “You’re not sorcerers?”
“Yes—well, no. Sorcerer is a little insulting,” Dormael explained. “We’re wizards.”
D’Jenn nodded. “Wizards of the Conclave.”
“The Conclave?” Dread filled Shawna’s stomach.
She’d never met a sorcerer, but the Conclave was a name to conjure nightmares. The last time the Conclave took a hand in world events, thousands died by magic. Entire armies had been destroyed by lightning from the sky and flames from the hands of Conclave wizards. Hundreds of years had passed since then, but Shawna had been raised to mistrust sorcerers, if not magic itself.
Are they using sorcery right now? Shawna’s skin crawled.
Dormael gave her a concerned look. “Are you alright? You look a little pale.”
Shawna turned a bewildered expression on the Sevenlander. “I had this strange picture of you in my mind. You were standing amidst a storm. There was lightning.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I thought you were unconscious during that part.”
Shawna scoffed. “So, my mind isn’t cracking after all.”
I stood face to face with a sorcerer and dressed him down. What if he curses me?
“Shawna,” Alton said, “you’re going to upset your wound again if you don’t relax.”
“Relax?” She chuckled. “How do you expect me to relax?”
“You should get as much rest as possible tonight,” D’Jenn said. “Things are going to get more complicated.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Galanians.” Dormael shot her a grim look. “They’re here.”
Dread washed over her shoulders, and the familiar, cold anger kindled to life in her chest.
“We knew that already,” Alton grunted.
“I didn’t know that.” Shanwa took a nervous breath. “It was them, Alton. They are the ones did this to me. They killed my father.”
“We know.” D’Jenn nodded, and his tone softened for the first time. “We worked it out earlier today.”
“You said something had changed?” Alton asked.
Dormael winced. “They know she came into the city in the company of a Sevenlander. I was careless. This is my fault.”
“You helped me,” Shawna said. “I probably would have died out there if not for your assistance. Don’t blame yourself for the Imperials.”
Dormael nodded, but the guilt was plain on his face.
“No sense in lamenting the fact now.” D’Jenn shrugged. “We overheard their commander—a Colonel named Grant—talking about conducting a search for westerners. They’re going to start rounding up Sevenlanders and interrogating them.”
Alton let out an exasperated breath. “Wonderful.”
Dormael nodded. “There’s more. We saw a letter addressed to this Colonel Grant with an Imperial seal. He’s under orders to find you and take an artifact from you. From the context of the message, it either came from the Emperor himself, or someone high enough to speak in his capacity.”
I was contacted by a buyer—a rich man. The voice of her father played again through Shawna’s head. Could the wealthy buyer be the Galanian Emperor himself? He was probably the most powerful man in Alderak. The Galanian Empire had already conquered two other countries, and no one expected them to stop. The Empire had the resources to chase her across the entire continent—a large portion of which was already in Imperial hands.
She felt like a rabbit with nowhere to hide from the hounds.
“The Earl is treating them like guests of honor,” D’Jenn added. “He’s got the Colonel put up in the castle, and his men appear to have free run of the city. Given that, we can’t expect any help from the officials here.”
Alton scowled. “Earl Lindesholm has committed treason. He’s sold his support to a foreign power to aid in the abduction of one of Cambrell’s noble daughters. There can be no doubt.”
“Indeed.” D’Jenn nodded. “If they know who she is, and they know she came into the city with a Sevenlander, we don’t have long to act.”
“It’s worse than that.” Alton’s eyes shot to Dormael. “Remember the Baronet Keeting?”
Dormael sighed. “I’d forgotten him.”
“You can bet he hasn’t forgotten you.”
“What’s this?” D’Jenn glanced between them.
“I had a confrontation with one of Alton’s business associates the day you made it here.” Dormael grimaced. “There were insults. He left angry.”
“He’s exactly the type to go running to the Earl if he hears of what’s happening.” Alton ran his hands through his hair. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to wipe the noble ass of anyone who will grant him favor.”
“Our path is clear now,” D’Jenn said. “It’s only a matter of time until they come knocking. Once they realize Shawna has relatives in the city, they’ll come straight here.”
Alton sighed and nodded. “How long do you think we have?”
“No more than a day, maybe less than that.” Dormael looked out the window. “If the rain holds out, it may slow them down.”
“I doubt it.” D’Jenn shook his head. “These aren’t normal soldiers. They’re Red Swords—the Imperial elite—and if they’re being led by a Colonel, the Empire is paying this situation close attention.”
“Gods.” Alton shook his head. “But why? All this over some…some artifact?”
Shawna gave Alton a sharp glance. Dormael and D’Jenn noticed the look, from the interested expressions on their faces, but they said nothing. The Sevenlanders had helped her, and had risked their lives to do so, but could she trust them? After the events of the past week—Gods, I can’t believe I’ve been out for a week—her trust was wearing thin. If she revealed her mother’s armlet, would the Sevenlanders just take it and disappear?
Could I stop them if they tried? They’re sorcerers, for the gods’ sakes.
Shawna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had to trust someone. Alton had done all he could to help, and given what they were all saying, she was in desperate need of allies.
But sorcerers?
Shawna looked at Dormael. “They wanted something from my father. An heirloom given to my mother on their wedding day.”
Dormael nodded. “An heirloom? I’ve been wondering what it was. I’d be interested to know where it came from—who gave it to your mother, I mean.”
Shawna narrowed her eyes. “The King. My mother was related to him. What do you mean, you’ve been wondering? How long have you known of this?”
“Since the night I found you—or I knew something, at least.” Dormael gave her a sheepish look. “Whatever it is, it’s what led me to you. I could hear it with my Kai, even as far away as you were.”
“Far away?” Shawna furrowed her brows. “I thought you found me on the road.”
“I did,” he said. “I was in the city when I heard it.”
“What do you mean you heard it?”
Dormael shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
Dormael sighed. “Magic has a certain sound to those of us who can wield it. It’s like a song, like music no one can hear but wizards. Sometimes you can feel a resonance with certain things, like infused items—magical items, I mean—and the night I found you, my magic came awake on its own. It wouldn’t sleep until I followed the sound. It was as if…well, nevermind.”
“As if what?”
Dormael met her eyes. “As if the heirloom wanted to be found. Like it was trying to get my attention.”
So, he helped me not out of noble character, but an interest in my mother’s armlet.
Shawna regarded him with narrowed eyes. For a moment she considered giving the damned thing to the wizard and having done with it—after all, it was certainly something beyond her understanding. Who better to examine and guard the thing than a Wizard of the Conclave?
The sentiment passed quickly. The armlet was her responsibility, no matter how dangerous or magical it was. Her father would screa
m from the Void if she passed it to someone else for safekeeping and let them go on their way.
Giving away the armlet probably wouldn’t save her from the Galanians. Regardless of what they wanted, she was the only witness to the attack on her family’s manor. If they cared enough to chase her here and risk the ire of the kingdom in the process, they probably wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
A thought occurred to her, and she gave Dormael a searching look. “When I was unconscious, you could have taken the armlet and left me to die. Why didn’t you?”
Dormael shrugged, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “I just wasn’t going to leave you there, that’s all. You were obviously remarkable, even without the magic leading me to you.”
“Oh?” She wasn’t sure how to take that remark.
“You were alone and had obviously been in a fight.” Dormael cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. “I couldn’t just leave you there. I wouldn’t have, either.”
Shawna nodded. Maybe his motivations weren’t entirely ignoble, after all.
D’Jenn rolled his eyes at Dormael. “My cousin, noble as a lion shitting in a bed of roses.” Dormael shot an irritated glance at D’Jenn, but the blue-eyed man ignored him. “We need to speed things up before we’re caught in the city with no escape. Lady Baroness, we need to smuggle you out of Ferolan.”
Shawna nodded. “Yes. I need to get to Arla. I’ve never met the King, but my mother was his cousin. Surely that’s enough to get me an audience.”
“That was my idea,” Alton said, “but our new friends don’t think it’s far enough.”
“Not far enough?” Shawna looked at Dormael and D’Jenn. “And where would you have me go, if not to the one man in Cambrell with enough power to see justice done?”
D’Jenn’s eyes were steady. “I don’t think the King can do much to help you.”
Shawna couldn’t stop herself from chuckling. “You don’t?”
Alton held up a hand. “Hear them out, cousin. In this, they’re speaking sense.”
Shawna shook her head with incredulity. “Very well. Go on.”
“For one, we know Emperor Dargorin was willing to commit an act of war to get his hands on your artifact,” Dormael said. “He’s got the largest military force on the continent, probably more gold than anyone in Alderak, and he wants what you have very much.”
Child of the Flames (The Seven Signs Book 1) Page 14